Tin Man
by TheConjuringMind
Summary: Sarah, the T-800, and John flee the scene after they destroy the T-1000, and find a temporary solace in a dinky apartment complex. The Terminator bonds with John over an old film on T.V., and brings his computer's developing feelings to his attention. Meanwhile, Sarah overhears a conversation between the two and questions her lack of parenting towards John. Family Fluff.


**Disclaimer: I don't own The Terminator Judgment Day, or any of the Terminator films.**

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"Why is the Tin Man sad?" Asked the T-800 as he pointed at the television playing the film 'The Wizard of Oz'. "He is indestructible."

"Because he doesn't have a heart," John explained, popping a few pieces of microwaved popcorn into his mouth. "So he can't feel anything like humans do."

"Is a heart required to obtain feelings?" The machine asked.

"Yeah, that's where _all_ feelings come from. Without it, you wouldn't be human."

The T-800 scowled at the television screen, apparently in deep thought.

"Are you 100% positive on this matter, John?"

"100%!" the child nodded quickly.

"I am not saying you are wrong," said the T-800. "But the sources of your information must be inaccurate, because I am 95% positive that I have developed feelings for you."

"Really!" John said excitedly, re-positioning himself on the couch and spilling some of his popcorn on the floor in the process. "What kind of feelings?"

"Nothing more than the want to protect and care for you just as I was programmed, but my hard drive suggests that the alleged feelings are fatherly."

"Oh yeah?" John questioned, setting his bowl of popcorn to the side as he took the T-800's hand and lead him to his room. "Let's test that out,"

John got a spare blanket off the floor and climbed into his bed, he lied down in the center of it, put his hands together, and crossed his legs at the ankles.

"Tuck me in." he ordered, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark cut out stars pasted on his ceiling.

"Tuck?" The T-800 replied with an almost confused-looking expression.

"Yeah, like this," John demonstrated, taking the blanket he'd set on the bed, putting it on top of him and tucking it underneath himself. "See?"

The T-800, however, did not comply.

Instead he asked;

"Why?"

"It's what moms and dads do for their children," John explained. "To show them that they love them and will always be there for them..." John trailed off and paused for a moment, feeling a little lonely at the thought of his mom never bothering to tuck him in. Not even per his request when he was a toddler. " _Most_ moms and dads," he corrected himself. "Mine never did..." he finished sadly, turning over on his side to try and hide the tear that had managed to slip down his cheek.

The T-800, however, being as observant as he was, noticed right away that John was crying like the previous time when he was upset, but knew better than to ask him why. Because according to his calculations, he'd be given another angry excuse or harsh look. And angering his master, he figured, wouldn't be a good idea.

So instead of mentioning the child's tears, the machine said; "But you are not my offspring, should I still tuck you in?"

"Yeah," John said quietly, wiping a few tears from his eyes. "Go ahead,"

The T-800 did as told, then stood by his bedside awaiting further instructions.

"Now say; 'good night John'," he told the robot.

"Good. Night. John." The machine echoed in its apathetic, robotic voice.

"Goodnight Uncle Bob," The young boy yawned, a sad smile teasing the corner of his lips, before he quickly drifted off to sleep.

Sarah, having overheard the entire conversation while she was checking the apartment for areas that could be potentially compromised, felt a little pang of remorse in her chest for _her_ raising of John, or lack there of. Not _once_ had she tucked him into bed in his whole existence. Not _once_ had she sung him any bedtime songs, or told him any bedtime stories as her mother had previously told her.

How did that make John feel? she wondered. Did it bother him as much as he led on? Was there any way for her to make up for it? Was denying him a few juvenile moments of comfort from his mother robbing him of his childhood?

All these thoughts and more shot at her mind from all directions, like an array of tiny bullets. Yet still, she couldn't allow herself the luxury of thinking them over. There wasn't any time. They had battles to fight. Wars to win. She couldn't allow her heart to get in the way of what war-leading man he was supposed to live up to. Supposed to _become._

So, she shook her head and walked past the hallway, flopping down on the couch and turning off the T.V. She couldn't let herself get caught up in those type of things. Not now.

As the sky outside began to blacken, the T-800 stood and watched over John the rest of the night to make sure no harm came to him. Setting his batteries to sleep-mode, he temporarily powered down as the alleged fatherly feelings inside his circuits slowly began to multiply.


End file.
